


Let This Road Be Mine

by CommunicationFlail



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Inspired by Anastasia (1997 & Broadway), Irondad, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Rated for Fury's language, missing child, nothing detailed though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2020-10-24 10:55:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20704808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CommunicationFlail/pseuds/CommunicationFlail
Summary: Ten years ago, five year old Peter Stark disappeared. When the trail went cold, the case was closed. Now new evidence has been brought to light and Tony will stop at nothing to get his son back. No matter how many fakes he has to meet. His son is out there, and he will find him.





	1. Life is Full of Choices

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone!  
So this is my first fic on here (don't know how much interest it'll grab but I figured why not.) The idea popped into my head while listening to Journey to the Past from Anastasia and just kind of snow balled. This first chapter is just a prologue, but I have a lot of awesome ideas for this coming up. This is a no-powers AU because that just kind of fit best. I hope you all enjoy!

_‘Life’s not fair, is it?’ _The words echo in Tony’s brain, that damn line from the movie his son had adored so much that they had to watch it every night. Ten years later and he's never related to anything more. He feels like that little mouse, caught in life’s clutches with seemingly no way out.

“Tony, are you even listening to me?” He blinked, brought back by the captain’s words. He tore his eyes away from the pixels in front of him that made up the picture of Peter, his son. Or, well, what his son should look like anyway. He had to admit, his program did a good job in constructing 16-year-old Pete from a picture of him at 5. Originally Karen (Kids Artificial, Reliable, and Efficient Nanny) had been created to help keep Peter safe. When that failed, keeping tabs on any leads and reconstructing his face every year was all she did. He waved his hand, instructing Karen to remove the image.

“Sorry, Cap. You’ll have to repeat that. I was too busy staring at my _dead_ _son_ wondering why you’re dragging me through this hell all over again. I mean, my therapist will thank you. She’ll appreciate the paycheck again.” To his credit, Steve looked guilty. Tony doubted it was easy to rehash this for him either, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

“I know this is difficult, Tony. I cared….care about Peter too. And I know this seems like it’s coming out of left field, but we got a break in the case. There’s a chance we can find him.” Tony shook his head, squashing down the little warm feeling of hope before it could spread through him. Instead, he let his anger grow, scowling at Steve as he clenched his fists.

“A lead? You’re trying to tell me that after a year of searching every corner of this planet and nine years of silence you suddenly have a lead?!”

“Look, I get that your skeptic but…”

“Skeptic?! I’m passed skeptic, Steve. I don’t trust you. You made sure of that when you withheld the information that your buddy closed the case two months in. You let me continue driving myself into the ground searching when you had information that Peter was _dead_. Now you’re standing here getting my hopes up that my son is alive, and you think you can find him? No. No, I can’t go down that rabbit hole again. I can’t do that to myself. Or to Pep.”

Steve squared his shoulders, visibly growing more defensive at the accusation. “Bucky made a call-” The table shook as Tony slammed his fist against it.

“A call that wasn’t his to make!”

“No. It was mine. Sit down, Stark. I don’t want you and the captain breaking any more of my fucking tables.” Both men turned as the Chief of Police entered the room and sat down, a sheepish Sergeant Barnes trailing behind him. “James was following my orders to close the case. We had evidence that your son was taken by a child trafficking ring, Hydra. One of their members, Adrian Toomes, confessed his involvement.” Fury slid a folder over to Tony, continuing as the man sifted through the documents. “As we told you when the incident occurred, the first 48 hours are vital when a child is abducted. After that, well, the outcome is rarely in our favor.” Tony had to admit, he had always appreciated the Chief’s blunt honesty. When everyone else tiptoed around him and made their pity blatant, Fury made sure he was honest and gave Tony realistic answers, whether it was what he wanted to hear or not.

“And that’s where your information stopped, if I may remind you.” He didn’t bother hiding the bitterness in his tone as he sent another glare across the table.

“I will admit that Captain Rogers made some stupid ass decisions in keeping the information from you, but what’s done is done. He served his suspension for it years ago. Even if you can’t let it go, you need him to help you, Stark.”

“The information where you found out that Toomes killed my son? Yeah, I can’t let that go. And that brings us back to the point of us being here-” Fury held up a hand, silencing Tony.

“If you’ll let me explain and stop interrupting. When we brought in Toomes he initially told us that he handed Peter off to a superior, then the story changed to him getting spooked and killing him. Regardless of his story change, we continued to search. When the trail ran cold and we were coming up with no leads and no body, we had to close the case. We could not afford to continue using manpower for a dead end.” Tony opened his mouth to argue, but Fury held up a finger to stop him before he could get a word out. “Ah. I don’t care how much money you have or what your last name is, you aren’t above the police force. We had to continue to do our job for the rest of the city.”

“I never stopped though.” Tony looked up in surprise at the soft voice. He raised his eyebrows in question, a silent urge for the sergeant to continue. “I paid a visit to Toomes every year, kept pushing for information. Yesterday he gave me a few names.”

“We picked one of them up this morning.” Steve jumped in. Apparently, he was growing immune to Tony’s glares. “Zemo. He gave us a run for our money, almost got a good shot in at Buck. Anyway, Fury gave him to Natasha to see what we could get.”

“Did you….did you get a location? Do you know where he is?” Tony could feel his hope rising. He struggled for a moment trying to decide to squash it again, or let it grow. “Please. Tell me after all this time, you know where he is.”

“No.” Fury shook his head. The hope fizzled, and Tony swallowed hard, praying to whoever was listening that the next words were better. “Natasha was sure he was being truthful when he said he didn’t know. But, he was sure he was alive. And we have an idea on how to find him.”

**~Two weeks later~**

_ “….Stark Industries has announced the reward for the safe return of Tony and CEO Pepper Stark’s son at two million dollars. This announcement comes after new information surfaced from the missing child’s case of Peter Stark nearly ten years ago….”_

The pixeled photo of Karen’s aged rendition of Peter flashed across the television. People paused on the street, shopping bags of Christmas gifts in hands as they crowded the window to see the news. None of them noticed the figure in the back of the crowd, his hood up to keep off the snow. A grin spread across his face as an idea formed. The game was on.


	2. No One Ever Mentions Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late upload and such a short chapter everyone! I planned on having this up much sooner but between work, school and my daughter's birthday was this past week, I didn't have a chance. I forgot to mention last chapter that this first part of our story is taking place in Washington. After all, we can't have an epic cross country road trip if our boy is just down the street.   
I didn't really plan for Harley to have such a big part in this chapter, but he kind of just formed and took over, so here we are. Next chapter we'll see some new characters pop in and crazy schemes formed, and it will be much longer as we start getting into the actual plot.   
Enjoy!

The creaking of the floorboards was far too loud for Peter’s liking. If Skip caught him sneaking in again, he’d really be in for it. He winced at the memory of his “discipline” from last week. On the outside, Skip Westcott looked like the perfect foster dad. He attended every PTA meeting, made sure the kids had clean, well fit clothes and even took them on family trips. But on the inside of the home, it was a nightmare. Withheld meals, screaming, and well…that was the better part of it. Even if he were to tell anyone, no one would believe the trouble making orphan over an outstanding citizen like Skip. So, he tried to keep quiet and off the man’s radar, as difficult as that could be.

He took the steps slowly, one at a time, and avoided the areas he knew made noise. He let out a breath of relief he didn’t realize he was holding when he reached the top without incident. Maybe tonight would finally go right for once. He slid into his room with practiced ease, the door shutting behind him with the softest click he could manage.

“You’re back. I didn’t hear any yelling so I’m assuming he didn’t see you.” A boy two years older than Peter sat at a desk by the window of the room. He twirled a pen in his fingers as he regarded his younger foster brother.

“No. I managed to get in and out okay this time.” He threw him a package that the older boy caught as he grinned. “Managed to get Mr. Strickland to let me in right before he closed. I still think he knows that something is going on, Harls.” He plops down at his desk, watching as Harley opens his sandwich and takes a bite. Harley Keener had arrived at Skips not long before Peter. There were times that he was sure the two of them only survived because of each other.

“Of course he does, the old man is smart. He knows Skip is a piece of crap.” Harley shrugged, picking up a piece of lettuce that had fallen onto his shirt. Peter frowned, slowly unwrapping his own sandwich. His brows furrowed as he regarded what Harley had said.

_If someone knows and they get a hold of CPS, we’d be taken away for sure. I mean, that’s good but…I could be separated from Harley. But that’s good if it means we get out of here. Doesn’t it? Oh man but what if we end up in different states, or worse different countries. They could change his name and then I’d never find him and-_

“-ter! Come on, man. Snap out of it. You’re stuck in your head again. What are you thinking?” Harley was suddenly in front of him, a look of concern on his face as he snapped his finger at Peter.

“Sorry.” His voice was barely a whisper. “I just couldn’t help but think what would happen if Mr. Strickland told someone.”

“What? We get out of this hell hole?”

“We’d be separated.” Harley went quiet at that. He couldn’t argue with it, there was no way they’d be lucky enough to end up in the same foster home again.

“Yeah, Pete. We would. And it would suck. But I’d find a way to track you down again. I promise you that.” He balled up his now empty wrapper, tossing it into the trash can. He’d have to remember to take out that bag first thing in the morning before Skip found it. For now, he had a kid brother to think of before anything else. “Look, Peter. You mean the world to me. The two of us have been through this hell together for years. But you promise me this right now, Parker. You find a way out, you take it. Understand? If you ever have the chance to get away from Skip you do it. Whatever it takes.”

“Not a chance. I’m not going anywhere without you. If we get out, we do it together.” Peter shook his head. There was no way he would leave Harley behind to deal with Skip by himself. When it was the two of them together they were able to tag team and distract the man when things got really bad. They snuck food and supplies to each other and took care of each others injuries. Peter wouldn’t leave Harley alone without anyone to do that for him.

“Don’t worry so much about me. I graduate next year. I’ll be out of here soon enough anyway.” Harley pushed Peter’s forgotten sandwich closer to him before getting up and climbing onto his bunk. “Now eat and go to bed, Parker. I don’t want to have to drag your cranky butt to school tomorrow.”

As it turned out, Harley did have to drag Peter out of bed in the morning. He trudged through the halls, his feet feeling like lead and his head in a fog. He barely even made it through lunch, something he was usually alert for. He and Harley made it a point to get as much as they could for lunch at school, in case something set Skip off that night. He was in such a daze through the day that he completely forgot it was Tuesday. The one day that he had to walk home by himself, as Harley stayed after for his plant club. A fond smile spread across his face as he thought of it. Harley hated that club, but it was the one thing that made him feel closer to his old life and his family. In a way, Peter envied Harley for that. He couldn’t remember much of anything about his family, let alone have something that made him feel nostalgic over them. And the fact that it allowed Harley to stay away from the house a little while longer.

As Peter walked out the doors of Ballard he stuck his headphones in his ears, readying himself for the walk home. He supposed he didn’t have to go straight home today. Skip wouldn’t be home right away, he had some kind of appointment. He reached into his pocket to check what was left of his allowance. He could stop by Mr. Strickland’s deli again today and grab a snack, but if something happened later that he or Harley would need to sneak out to grab something to eat again then he’d be out of luck. He sighed, kicking a stone as he walked through the streets of Seattle. Better to save his money he supposed. With his music on and lost in his thoughts, he missed the hand reaching out until it pulled him into the alley.


	3. Who Knows Where This Road May Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley’s words from that morning ran through his mind, urging him to take the first chance he got to run. He chewed his lip as he thought. It couldn’t hurt to just hear what this guy had to say, right?
> 
> “Okay.” He responded slowly, “I’ll listen to what you’re offering. But if I don’t like it….?”
> 
> “I drop you off right back here, no harm, no foul.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeyyyyyooooo. 
> 
> It’s been quite a while. I honestly expected no one to really even read the last two chapters while I was gone but I still got comments and messages asking that I not abandoned it, and I can not begin to tell you how much that meant. I know it’s been a while, but I work retail and the holidays are always a super busy time...and unfortunately on Christmas Eve, I lost a family member that was very very dear to me to cancer. I’ve never had to deal with grief like this before so it’s been a really rough past few months. But I feel that I’m finally in a good place now and I’m healing, so I’m back to writing and I’ll be having weekly updates, even writing out future chapters before hand. I don’t think I’ll have a set update schedule since my work schedule varies from week to week and my classes start back up next week, but it’ll be some day during every week, I promise.   
Thank you all so much again for not only reading but the kind words left in the comments and messages that really helped to keep me afloat!
> 
> Enjoy! ~  
(More notes at the end!)

Peter’s head collided with the tile floor, the room spinning as he curled in on himself, his arms covering his face quickly in an attempt to protect himself from further damage. His ears rang, but he could still make out Harley’s voice, a shout for Skip to stop. His chest tightened and panic overtook him as he felt the man grip his shirt, ready to yank him to his feet. He flinched, preparing himself as best he could for the next blow.

“Kid. Breathe. Ya gotta breathe. Come on, in and out. In and out. Just follow mine.” Why was Skip telling him to breathe? And why was the tile moving under his hand? Wait, that wasn’t floor. Peter screwed his eyes shut, and did as he was told, following the pattern of breathing under his hand. That’s right, he wasn’t at home. He had been walking home from school. Had Skip found him? He felt his panic pick up slightly once more, but as he opened his eyes he wasn’t met with Skip’s almost bleach white hair and cold brown eyes. Instead, blue eyes stared back at him with concern and as he saw the man’s mouth moving he realized he was speaking to him.

“There ya go. Easy.” As the mystery man helped Peter sit up, he looked around at his surroundings in an attempt to get his bearings. Oh. That’s right. He had been walking around town and….someone grabbed him. Peter frowned as he looked at the man closely, noticing the starting of a bruise next to his eye. Crap, had he done that? He prided himself in the ability to read people, a side effect of living with Skip he was sure and this man didn’t seem to mean him any harm. “You okay, kid? That was a heck of panic attack. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Ummm yeah. No, I mean, I’m good. You didn’t…scare me. More surprised.” He shrugged, “Sorry I…punched you, Mr….?” He didn’t mean for it to come out as a question. He was ninety eight percent sure that came from him but he had no idea who this guy was. Instead of the anger or annoyance he thought he’d received, the man chuckled.

“Barton. But please, don’t call me that. Call me Clint. And I can’t say I didn’t deserve it. I did surprise you after all.”

Peter didn’t miss the sarcasm dripping from his voice and he felt his cheeks heat up. Yeah, he wasn’t fooling this guy with how terrified he was. He attempted to defend himself, but Clint was speaking again before Peter could even open his mouth.

“I should explain myself but, uh, not here.” He looked around nervously. “Look, I know you have no idea who I am, and I know you don’t have any reason to trust me. But I know who you are.”

“Wha-“

“Peter Parker. Age fifteen. In the system since he was eight. Currently living with one Skip Westcott. Gotta say, kid, the guys a creep. If I were you, I’d want to get out of there the first chance I got. And that’s what I’m here to offer you, a way out. Normally I don’t condone going off with some stranger but….I promise, I’m not some weirdo. Well, I mean, I’m weird but…well you know what I mean.”

Peter did know what he meant. His frown deepened as he wondered how this guy knew so much about him. Despite what Clint said, if that didn’t scream weirdo he didn’t know what did. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder what this guy meant by offering a way out. For all he knew this could be some pyramid scheme, or worse some kind of trafficking. He heard the horror stories of kids being taken. Harley’s words from that morning ran through his mind, urging him to take the first chance he got to run. He chewed his lip as he thought. It couldn’t hurt to just hear what this guy had to say, right?

“Okay.” He responded slowly, “I’ll listen to what you’re offering. But if I don’t like it….?”

“I drop you off right back here, no harm, no foul.” Clint smiled as he walked to the curb, opening the passenger door to a beat up old Chevy truck.

“Nice shiner, куриные мозги.” That was the first thing Peter heard as he climbed out of the truck. Russian, his brain supplied. Not that he knew any and could translate whatever this lady had said. He stood at the hood of the truck, watching the two carefully as Clint approached the red head. There was something formidable about the woman. She carried an air of strength and confidence that Peter swore reminded him of someone. He just couldn’t think of who, or why. He supposed it was a form of déjà vu, and for whatever reason he seemed to have those moments quite a bit.   
“What can I say?” Clint chuckled, smiling towards Peter, “Kid has a heck of a right hook. I may have freaked him out a bit.”  
“Well anyone would with that face staring at them. Natasha Romanoff.” The woman, Natasha, extended her hand towards Peter as he watched the banter between the two. He eyed her for a moment before accepting the gesture.  
“Peter Parker. Mr. Barton said you had something to talk to me about that…um..could get me out of here?” He tried to keep the hope out of his voice, but with the prospect of an escape he found that near impossible.   
Clint cringed at the formal name, mumbling once more about ‘the kid being too damn proper.’  
“Yes, you could say that. Why don’t we go in and sit down and talk?” She gestured towards the house but Peter was quick to shake his head, shooting the idea down and offering up his own.   
“Right here is fine, please, Miss Romanoff.” He expected an argument, or anger at him daring to speak up against her, but he found himself receiving a knowing smirk instead.  
“Fine with me. It’s a good call, kid. Never give your enemies an advantage.”  
“Is that what you are, an enemy?” He raised his eyebrows, his confidence fading and he stepped towards the truck, his back hitting the front bumper.  
“Is that what you view us as?” Natasha was quick to counter. He thought for a moment before slowly shaking his head.  
“No. I-I’ve seen actual enemies. People that….” His mind went to Skip and everything the man had put him through in the past few years. “People that actually want to hurt me. You don’t seem like you want to hurt me.” Peter jumped as a metallic clang sounded behind him, whipping around to see Clint smiling as he patted the truck bed next to him.  
“Nah, kid, we don’t. Come on up. Let’s talk.” 

“How much do you know about the Stark family?” Natasha begins first, after they’re all settled into the truck bed with blankets and pillows and each with a sand which in hand. He had almost laughed when Clint trudged out of the house with the bedding in tow, but as the air cooled as day turned to evening, he was thankful for the forethought. Though he also considered that this may not be an uncommon thing for the duo.  
“Umm some. I mean, Tony Stark is a household name, ya know? First with the weapons manufacturing and now the technology advancements.” Peter had been much too young to have experienced the shift in the economy when the changes to Stark Industries occurred, but he had learned about it in his business classes in school. “It’s actually really cool some of the things he’s done, I mean, the new element he discovered has so much energy potential and it changes everything. I mean, the structure itself is something no one had ever thought of and the fact that he was even able to come….up..with it..” He stopped short as he saw the look Clint and Natasha gave to each other. Peter internally cursed. He was known to go off on tangents like that when someone would listen, which wasn’t something that occurred often. “Sorry, I ramble.”  
“No, no.” Clint waved him off, smiling. “No, this is perfect. You seem like a smart kid and being passionate about this kind of thing only helps the cause.”  
“I’m sorry? What…cause ?”  
“You’re right, that Stark switched his company’s ideals from weapons manufacturing to a focus on technology and energy. That’s common knowledge. What few remember, or care about in the case of the media, is why those changes were made in the first place.” Natasha continued her story, cutting Clint off quickly. “Ten years ago the heir to Stark industries, Tony’s son Peter Stark, was kidnapped from his nanny off the streets of New York. Over six thousand miles away Tony was also kidnapped by a terrorist organization during a military weapons demonstration. Tony Stark was found and rescued, but they never found his son. A son you not only share a name with,” Natasha pulled an image up on her phone, facing it towards the teen, “but also a striking resemblance to.” All the air left Peter’s lungs as he stared at a face of a missing boy, his face. That was impossible. He was nobody. He was…  
“No. No way. I’m not him. I’m an…”  
“Orphan?” Clint finished his sentence for him, a brief look of pity on his face as he noticed Peter’s flinch at the word. “Yeah. We know. You’ve been in and out of the system since you were eight years old. Found yourself in the care of May and Ben Parker until you were twelve, where you wound up with Skip. I told you, we did our research. But answer us honestly, Peter, do you remember anything before you were eight?” He nodded as Peter shook his head, confirming the mans suspicions. “Then what’s to say you aren’t him?”  
“Here’s our deal,” Natasha got right to the point, already knowing they had the kid invested. “You come with us to New York. We tell you everything you need to know about Peter Stark, you meet Tony and Pepper and if you’re him, great. You get your family back. And if not, we help you get emancipated. No more Skip, no more system. And no one gets hurt.”   
Peter chewed his lip as he thought. This was a chance, but could he do that? Leave Harley behind and chase after some wild fantasy that he could be the missing Stark heir? And how could he even think that in the first place? But still….when they found out he wasn’t…he could still be…free. On the complete other side of the continent from Skip. He could find a way to get Harley to New York later on….and Harley would freak out if he didn’t take this deal.  
“Okay.” He agreed slowly. “But I need to talk to someone before I leave, and I need help getting my things. Skip…he can’t find out about this.”  
A grin spread across Natasha’s face as she easily agreed and jumped from the bed of the truck. “Of course, Pooka. Whatever you need.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, finally, the beginning of a beautiful plot. So what do we think of Natasha, you might remember her being mentioned in the first chapter. I already have an idea of how that is tying together and I think you’ll all enjoy it. 
> 
> Also, fun fact, you may probably know Pooka as the dog from Anastasia. I didn’t want Peter to have an actual dog in here, (mainly because I’m terrible with writing animals and I know I’m going to forgot to include it) but I wanted to insert that name somewhere because he’s my favorite character. So, I decided it’s a fun little nickname for Peter from Natasha.  
The fun part of this is that Pooka isn’t actually a Russian word. It’s Celtic. Pookas are shape shifters and I feel that her referring to Peter as such is a fun way to reference the beginning of his transformation into Peter Stark.


	4. On a Journey to the Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all once again for the kind comments and the kudos! I appreciate each and every one of you and those comments and kudos will definitely make the next few weeks easier. We are officially in a state wide quarantine here, and everything excepts for essential businesses, drive thrus and hospitals are closed. 
> 
> As I said before I work in a large grocery store, so regardless of the quarantine, work goes on for me. This past week has felt more like a month as we’ve pulled insane hours trying to restock and fill orders and I will tell you I have seen the best and the worst of humanity all in the course of a few days and it is so draining. But life will continue to move on. 
> 
> I hope you are all staying safe and healthy in the midst of all of this. I know it can be a scary time and please, if any of you feel alone or that you need to talk, feel free to reach out to me. I would love to listen and help. No one should feel alone in a time like this. 
> 
> Until next week!

“Harls.” Peter hissed, trying to get the other teens attention, but not alerting the man downstairs. “Harley, come on.” He could see Harley working at his desk, his headphones in his ears causing Peter’s current issue. Natasha and Clint had driven him back to Skip’s home, mainly for him to gather what little possessions he owned. Living in the system meant he didn’t have much, most of his possessions had come from a necessity of caring for Peter, the only way Skip would be able to keep face and collect the money that came with fostering. Really, Peter was only concerned with three things, a drawing he kept tucked in his nightstand, to say goodbye to Harley, and Ben’s jacket. It was the one thing he kept from his adoptive parents home, reminding him of a time that was simpler, where he was loved.

As Harley turned the shared computer off, the black screen reflected Peter in the window and Harley jumped, falling from the chair and landing with a thud on the floor. Both boys stilled, their eyes wide as they strained to hear any clue that Skip had heard the commotion. Sure enough his heavy footsteps began to stomp up the stairs and Peter saw the sheer panic fill Harley’s face as he scrambled to his feet. He rushed over and opened the window pulling Peter in just as the steps stopped in front of the room and the door flew open. “What the hell is going on here?!” The man bellowed, his brows knitting together as he glared at the boys in front of him.

“I fell!” Harley answered quickly, “We were just goofing around, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” The last bit of the elders apology and any answer their guardian may be preparing were drowned out by a chime ringing through the house. Peter stopped himself from smiling. Saved by the bell, literally. He knew that was Clint, the man fully prepared to keep Skip occupied as Peter gathered his things and climbed back out into Natasha’s waiting truck outside. Skip scowled, looking torn between continuing his interrogation of his boys and answering the insistent ringing doorbell. The latter won out as he pointed at Harley. “We’re not done with this conversation.” He hurried down the stairs and Peter could hear Clint’s voice fill the foyer, declaring himself as a new hire with Children and Youth there to do a surprise inspection of the home. Harley nudged the door shut with his foot, the voices muffling as he and Peter let out a breath of relief.

“New social worker, huh? Maybe this one will finally see through that bastard’s show. Right, Pete?” The smile that was on Harley’s face faded as he turned to look at Peter. “What is it…? I’ve known you long enough to know that look. What happened?”

‘_So much. More than I have time to explain.’ _Peter shook his head, his mop of brown hair falling in his face. He’d need a hair cut soon. But now wasn’t the time to get caught in his head. And wasn’t that a bitter thought. Because who was going to pull him out of his head without Harley around?

“I don’t have a lot of time. But I found it, that way out of here that you were talking about.”  
“Pete, what-“

“These guy, they have this idea that I look like Tony Stark’s son, right?

I mean I even have the same name. But if I go with them to New York and meet Tony Stark and talk to him then maybe I can find out who I am, and where I came from and what happened before May and Ben.” Peter wandered as he explained things to his brother. He grabbed his school bag and dumped his supplies out, opting instead to shove clothing and necessities in their place. He tore open his night stand drawer, grabbing the taped and yellowed paper, carefully folding it and slipping it into the front pocket of the bag.

“Peter-“

“And I know, I know it sounds crazy, I mean I’m just some orphan kid, there’s no way I’m the son

of a _billionaire and genius,_ but I have to try and even if I’m not at least I’m away from Skip and-“

“Peter stop!” Peter’s mouth snapped shut as he looked at Harley with wide eyes. His hands stilled as he clutched Ben’s jacket that he plucked from his closet. “I know what I

said this morning, but this….what do you even know about these people? Peter they could take you someplace and _murder_ you. Or worse. And even if they do take you to New York and you meet Tony Stark….Peter I don’t want to doubt you, you sell yourself short so often. But this? The chance that you’re the missing Stark kid? That’s one in a million. And I don’t want to see you get hurt when they turn you away. And then you’re going to be in a huge city by yourself and you can’t even walk to the park here without a panic attack.” Harley kept his voice low, the jab coming out as more of a growl than a yell. He didn’t mean the tone to be mean, rather, they had mastered the technique of yelling without truly yelling. 

“That’s not fair.” Peter crossed his arms, his voice rising an octave as the hurt settled deep in his chest. Harley had been there often for him during his attacks and the thought of his brother throwing it back in his face broke his heart. “Don’t bring issues like that into this Harley. If I don’t do this, I’m going to be wondering my whole life who I may be and what I may have missed by not going.” 

“You know I didn’t mean it like that Pete…” Harley sighed, running a hand through his hair as he contemplated his next words. “Look…I just…this is so dangerous. I get it, this is your chance. But when Skip finds out you left…everything here is going to turn upside down. You missing is going to raise questions and Skip is going to go off the deep end.”

“Come with me then.” Peter set his bag down, his voice pleading. “We can both go to New York. These guys can get us there and we can find jobs and an apartment together and-“ Peter stopped as Harley thrust his bag back into his arms, shaking his head.

“You know I can’t do that, Pete. As crappy as it may be, I have a life here. I have school and friends and I graduate next year. Something I never thought was going to happen. And so do you. You want to leave this behind, fine. Just go.” The unspoken words hung between the two. _‘Leave this behind…leave me behind.’ _ That was the last thing Peter wanted to do, was to leave Harley behind. But he knew the other boy was right. Regardless of how bad Skip made their foster home, Harley did have friends. He had clubs, and academics and hobbies. Things to help him escape. Peter had none of that. He had Harley, but he had never made any true friends at their school. He read books, he studied and he kept to himself. Any argument Peter may attempt to make to persuade the boy caught in his throat as Harley flopped onto his bed, turning to face the wall. He squeezed his bag close to his chest, knowing there was not going to be any way to change the his mind.

“Bye Harls.” The farewell came out in barely a whisper of a breath, but he knew Harley heard it by the way his body tensed, no doubt hoping that Peter would stay as much as he wished Harley would go with him. He forced the window back open and climbed back out, shutting it gently behind him as he dropped down onto the eave below. One thing that he had become good at since living there was climbing, years of sneaking in and out of the room giving him the dexterity he needed to descend to the ground below. He had memorized every hand and foot hold and landed on the driveway with a practiced ease, straightening himself as he repositioned his bag on his shoulders and ducked under the streetlights. He pulled his hood over his head and made his way down the street to where Natasha was waiting.

“Got everything you need?” She looked back at him as he climbed into the back seat of the truck. Peter merely nodded, his conversation with Harley and his own anxiety clenching his chest far too much for him to find words to speak. Natasha took the cue at the lack of conversation, choosing instead to face forward and watch carefully for any sign of Clint. The minute the man came into view, she turned the key bringing the truck to life with a roar. He climbed into the passenger seat beside Natasha, wasting no time in turning around to scowl at Peter.

“That man is faker than Natasha’s hair color.” He muttered, annoyance clear in his features. Natasha smacked his arm as he put the vehicle in gear and started down the street, Clint’s cry of unfair treatment and their playful bickering bringing a smile to face that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He shook his head as he popped his headphones in, watching out the window as the woman in front of him skillfully maneuvered through the city as the brightly lit buildings slowly gave way to the open grass of back roads. He leaned his head against the window, allowing his eyes to drift shut as the comforting music flowed through the ear buds. His last thought before drifting off was a warm memory of arms wrapped around him and the smell of peppermint. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a lot shorter than I thought it was going to be and I’m actually super unhappy with it. I may very well end up posting the next chapter early so I would expect two chapters this week instead of one!


	5. One Step at a Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He seriously owns Area 51? I’m not sure if I’m excited, or if I’m really disappointed they’re not really hiding aliens.”  
“Really?” Natasha’s eyebrow rose as she examined the boy. “Of all the things we just told you and that’s the one you focus on?”  
“Well if he really is my dad, I didn’t need to know he was voted the sexiest man alive eleven times.” Peter scrunched his nose in disgust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive? I know I'm super inconsistent with updates and apologize pretty much every chapter, but I can tell you that updating will come more frequently from me now. Long story short, I tried to juggle too much a while ago, got disqualified from school and just recently I reorganized my life and went back to school. But I was still on a probation period. So the past few months I really had to focus on my classes in order to pull my GPA up and get myself out of that probation status. I managed to get all A's and officially ended my last class on Monday (which was an Intro to Creative Writing so hopefully that helps here too.)  
I'm probably going to try my hand and Whumptober too, so expect a new series from me shortly.  
Thank you to everyone that's still here and reading after that long break, and welcome to the new readers!  
Enjoy the chapter.

_ Thunk._ Peter groaned, grabbing his head and wincing as he was pulled abruptly from sleep. The truck had gone over a particularly bad pothole, causing the current throbbing through his skull. He blinked the sleep from his eyes, looking through the cursed window to try and gain some sense of where they were. Large plains stretched from the road on both sides, the mountains towering over them in the distance. It was beautiful, like a painting. A painting he swore he’s seen.

_ ‘A painting hung in a large living space, floor to ceiling windows surrounding the opposite wall. A woman with strawberry hair pulled back in an easy style reached out to him, her laughter like music even as she scolded him for somehow managing to remove the lid from his cup and dump the contents onto the pristine floor. Her smile was radiant, the sun shining in from the windows behind her only increasing the beauty of her silhouette. He reached his own little arms out, feeling himself being lifted from the floor into a warm embrace as the lady spoke.’_

  
“Morning sleeping beauty.” The image faded as quickly as it came, and he shook his head at the assault on his brain. He’d had that very dream before, but it had been a while. The hope of finding his family must have brought it back to his mind.  
“Are you alright, Pooka?” Natasha asked gently. That was something that Peter had come to understand in the past few days of their trip. Despite Natasha’s rough front she initially put up, it was merely a wall. Underneath she was kind and caring, ensuring that Peter ate enough and pointing out landmarks as they drove. She even entertained his many questions, more than willing to answer them and listen as he rambled on about anything he could think of. Peter hadn’t really had any adults that had ever done that for him. Only Harley. A pang went through his chest as he thought of his brother, his eyes jumping to the burner phone Clint had tossed him the other night after they disposed of his old one. His many texts to the other boy had remained unanswered and the silence was more deafening than any argument they could have. He didn’t blame Harley, but he couldn’t help but worry what he was going through right now back home.  
“Uh, yeah. Yeah, sorry. Just getting kind of restless.” He stretched his arms out in an attempt to back up his claim, hoping Natasha wouldn’t press further. She nodded, smiling, though her eyes bore into his in a way that told him she saw right through him.  
“We’re coming up to a rest stop now. We’ll fill up, walk around a bit and grab some breakfast. I can hear your stomach from all the way up here, kid.” Clint spoke up from the driver’s seat and as if on cue a loud grumble emerged from Peter’s stomach earning laughs from all three of the truck’s passengers.  
“I guess I could eat.” He shrugged, the smile remaining on his face as they pulled into a Montana rest stop. They had driven through all of Washington two days ago before stopping at a motel to rest up. That night they had piled back in, driving into Montana all of yesterday, taking breaks as needed. Peter jumped down out of the truck, his back cracking as he stretched out. He let out a sigh of relief as his joints got their much-needed movement.  
“We’re just on the edge of Montana.” Natasha stated, a map in her hand as she exited the passenger side. “We’ll be in North Dakota before noon. We could reach New York by Saturday afternoon if we drove straight through but with rests it’ll probably be more early Sunday morning.”  
Peter looked at the date on his phone. It was Friday. That meant he had less than two days to prepare himself for a moment that would upturn his whole life. To know whether he would know who his family was and learn all the answers to the questions he’s always had, or to end up in an unknown city on his own. He took a deep breath as the doubts moved in on his mind.  
“Hey.” Clint said softly, squeezing Peter’s shoulder as he walked up to the pair. “Get out of that noggin of yours, kid.” He rapped his knuckles softly against Peter’s head before ruffling his hair. “We won’t let you fail. Come on, we’ll go sit down and grab some breakfast and we’ll start training.” He smirked, walking towards the small diner in the rest stop, Natasha not far behind him.  
“Training? Wait, what training?” Peter shouted after them, jogging to catch up to the adults.

Ten minutes later Peter regarded the two sat across from him as he stuffed another forkful of pancakes into his mouth. “So,” he swallowed the food as he began his question, “his parents names were Howard and Maria, his godmother’s name was Peggy and he had two master’s degrees from MIT by the time he was nineteen. But how is this all going to help me? I mean that’s all information anyone can get from a quick google search.” After all, he had already known that information before Clint and Natasha had mentioned it.  
“True,” Clint agreed, shoving a piece of bacon in his mouth, “but you’ve gotta walk before you can run. The basics will help you understand more in-depth stuff later.” He pointed the piece of bacon at Peter, ducking as Natasha swatted at him while grumbling about manners and speaking with his mouth full. “Tony put out the call looking for his kid a week ago, since then he’s had a ton of claims that have been fake. He refuses to even run any tests until he feels for sure that he’s found his son. You want him to even give you a shot to prove you’re his kid, you’ve gotta show you know about him. Basics and all the juicy inside info.” Peter considered the man’s words for a moment, tilting his head as he sipped his orange juice. Clint and Natasha really seemed to believe that Peter was the lost Stark heir and we was grateful for all their help, but how was he supposed to show he knew information that he…well, didn’t know.  
“I worked for Tony, a few years back.” Natasha explained. “I was his assistant for a while. I know plenty of information that is going to get you that DNA test, Pooka. Don’t you worry.” She reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “We’re going to get you home.”

* * *

If Peter thought cramming for an exam was bad, it was nothing compared to the information on the family that was being pounded into his head. It was an entire lifetime of information. A lifetime he had potentially missed out on. He felt a heaviness settle on his heart as he considered this, but he quickly pushed it aside. There was plenty of time to unpack those feelings later. Right now, he needed to focus on the present and the time he potentially had in the future.  
“He seriously owns Area 51? I’m not sure if I’m excited, or if I’m really disappointed they’re not really hiding aliens.”  
“Really?” Natasha’s eyebrow rose as she examined the boy. “Of all the things we just told you and that’s the one you focus on?”  
“Well if he really is my dad, I didn’t need to know he was voted the sexiest man alive eleven times.” Peter scrunched his nose in disgust, earning a hearty laugh from Clint and a fond shake of the head from Natasha. He wiped his hands down his pants, a subconscious motion of comfort that left little streaks of grease from the bacon down the dark denim. He let the continued conversation between Natasha and Clint fill the background noise as he looked around the small diner. It was homey. The faded blue and white paneled walls clashed with the red counters and chairs, but in a way that was familiar and comforting. The smell of pancakes and eggs, similar to the meal he just finished, filled the air and brought smiles to the diverse crowd that wandered in every few moments. The little bell above the door dinged as a large man with a trucker hat and stained white shirt walked in, almost crashing into the waitress that came around the corner of the diner’s bar. His apology was loud and boisterous but wasn’t enough to distract Peter from the second bell ding, and the shivers that ran down his spine as another man walked in right after. He had a receding hairline, fading in to whisps of gray hair that framed high cheek bones. His dark green biker jacket was open over a black shirt that seemed never ending when paired with his coal black jeans. But what really unnerved the boy was his eyes. Steel grey eyes that seemed cold and calculating and bore into him as they met his own chocolate browns. He walked with purpose, moving down the bar counter until he was leaning against it, almost diagonal from their table. His grin was manic, and he never took his eyes from them.  
He felt frozen with fear. He knew he didn’t know this man, yet something about him was terrifying in a familiar way. He hadn’t even noticed that the conversation between the adults had faded out and the mood had shifted from their lighthearted banter to a tense silent. He didn’t break the contact until Natasha shook his arm. She had followed his gaze and knew right away who he was staring at. She looked over at Clint and nodded as the man threw down some crumpled bills. They both slid out of the booth, Clint grabbing Peter’s arm and yanking him up out of his own. Natasha led the way towards the door, Clint right beside him, still gripping his arm and seemingly acting like a shield between the boy and the man’s gaze as they moved past him.  
“Move quickly. Don’t look back at him.” He whispered. They moved quickly towards the door, the same little bell dinging again. This time, Peter thought it sounded much more haunting rather than welcoming. Crossing the parking lot seemed to take a lifetime as he expected the man to appear behind them at any moment. He concentrated on his beat-up old converse and the pavement under them in an attempt to calm his fear. Relief flooded through him as they reached the beat-up truck. Safety. All they had to do was jump in and peel out of the lot. He was sure Natasha could outrun anyone if needed and-  
Natasha cursed in Russian, cutting off his train of thought. He looked up quickly, and he felt the blood rush from his face as he saw what she was looking at.

The tires to the truck were slashed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as well for all the kind comments. You guys keep me going and keep me inspired!


End file.
